


The Christmas Tie

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 06:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15551850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: Christmas is always exciting when Time Tots - and neck wear - are involved.





	The Christmas Tie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Time Family just comes to visit. I can’t seem to make them stay, no matter how many sweets I offer.
> 
> A/N: This is the next instalment of what I suppose has become the “Christmas Specials”, beginning the “A Proper Christmas”, and continuing with “A Noble Christmas” and “The Twelve Christmases”. Egad. It’s almost a Series!

_Christmas Eve, Chiswick, London_  
  
Donna Noble-Smith was reluctant to leave the misty warmth of the shower in the en-suite of the bedroom she shared with her husband.  Not only was the water soothing as it pelted down on her body.  But it was also one of the few times in her life she was actually able to be completely alone.   
  
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family.  She did.  Being a wife and mother was a dream she never thought would come true for her.  But trying to wrangle two very precocious and energetic three-and-a-half year olds was taxing, to say the least.  Add a hyperactive Time Lord to the mixture and, well, relaxing moments such as these were few and far between.  
  
When she had first discovered she was expecting, she and the Doctor realized that she would need somewhere to ‘nest’ during the latter part of her pregnancy, and that the practicalities of raising Time Tots on a TARDIS would be daunting.  Given the complexity and potential dangers of their lifestyle, and, to be honest, the wish to include her mother and grandfather in their lives, it was decided that they would not only pay off the mortgage on the Mott-Noble home, but purchase the adjacent property and extensively remodel to create one, larger household., essentially two living spaces with a connecting hallway.  This would afford the newlyweds privacy while giving the extended family access to the children after they were born.  
  
It had worked surprisingly well.  Donna had moved into the renovated Mott-Noble-Smith home during her last trimester, and had a relatively uneventful home birth, attended to by Dr Martha Jones, and under the watchful eye of Sylvia Noble, the hospital matron.  
  
The Doctor gladly became a stay-at-home Dad, and Donna was amazed at how much she enjoyed having him around and underfoot.  The TARDIS kept them apprised of the state of the Universe, and he would occasionally have to run off to avert some crisis or another.  But he always came directly back and resumed his fatherly – and husbandly – duties.  His days of incessantly running were over, and he was glad of it.  
  
Once the twins were weaned and had settled into a routine, Donna felt a little more comfortable leaving the children with Sylvia and Wilf, and began to accompany the Doctor on those little adventures.  They were always short, and much less dangerous, and they both were quite content.  
  
Sighing deeply, she grudgingly turned off the water and reached for a towel, wrapping it expertly around her head, before stepping out of the shower stall.  She was again grateful for the Doctor’s thoughtful addition of heated floor tiles and warm air blowers.  She donned her towelling robe and stepped out into the bedroom, blotting her hair as she walked.  
  
She hadn’t taken but a few steps when the bedroom door burst open and a small, pale blur raced across the floor and launched himself at her legs, almost toppling her, shrieking  _‘Mummy!  Mummy !!  Mummy!!!’_  at the top of his lungs.  His naked little body was speckled with water droplets and his dark auburn hair was a wet, riotous mess.    
  
“Whoa there, little man,” she crooned as she crouched down and wrapped her head-towel around him.  
  
Another figure strode purposefully through the door.  “Sorry!” the Doctor exclaimed.  “The little monster got away from me.  Again!”  He picked up his son and admonished, “Troilus Geoffrey Smith-Noble.  What have I told you about running in Miss TARDIS?”  
  
His son looked up at him with large blue-brown eyes, an exact duplicate of the ‘Time Puppy’ look he often gave his wife.  “She not like it,” Troi replied quietly.  “She afraid I get hurt.”  
  
“Well,” the Doctor replied, sternly.  “The same applies to running in the house.”  
  
“Especially when you’re all drippy,” chimed in his fraternal twin sister Cassiopeia Eileen, as she stepped from behind her father, demurely tying the belt of her robe and fluffing her ginger curls, her blue-gold eyes looking scornfully superior at her brother, born seventeen minutes her junior.  
  
“But I miss Mummy!” the little Time Lord cried.  “And ‘sides,  _you_  drippy too!”  This accusation was directed at his father.  
  
They had discovered early on that the easiest way to get the twins to take their baths was to join them, and this turned out to be an especially precious activity for the Doctor.  As a result, he was clad in only a large bath towel, precariously tucked around his waist, having leapt from the bath to chase his runaway child.  
  
Donna looked over at the Doctor, her eyes twinkling with supressed mirth, and something not quite fit for family time.  It amazed her that, after nearly six years of marriage, the sight of his partially clothed body could still cause her heart to flutter and warmth to spread through her insides.  
  
She walked over and ruffled her son’s wild hair and then, smirking, did the same to his father.  Reaching out, she took the wriggling body from the Doctor and kissed him on the cheek.  “You go finish your bath, love.  I’ll get these two dressed and over to Mum and Gramps.”  She held out her hand for her daughter and said, “Come on, you two little beasties.  If you’re good, Great-Gran may let you have one of the Christmas cookies we decorated last night.”  She looked back over her shoulder at the Doctor.   _‘Bribery!’_ he mouthed.  She just smiled and winked.  
  
An hour later, she entered their bedroom, dressed in a plaid skirt and holly green velvet jumper.  Her hair was artistically arranged in cascading curls, and around her neck and from her ears dangled the volcanic rock jewellery the Doctor had given her one memorable Christmas.  
  
She walked in to find her husband standing at her dressing table in plain back trousers and a crisp white shirt, attempting to attach links to the French cuffs.  He turned when he heard the door open and gazed lovingly at her.  He was initially pleased to see she was wearing the Highland plaid from their  _Twelve Days of Christmas_ adventure.  But his pleasure quickly faded.  “You’re already dressed,” he pouted.  
  
She laughed and retrieved the links from the table top.  He always needed help with them.  “I got my things while you were splashing about in the bath and dressed in the twins’ room.  I knew full well what would happen if I came back in here in just my dressing gown,” she stated, with a coy smile.  “We would never had made it to dinner.”  
  
He leered.  “And that would have been a bad thing?”  
  
She smacked him lightly on the arm.  “Think about it.  What would have happened if we hadn’t shown up?  Mum would have come looking for us, that’s what.”  She smiled as he cringed at the thought.  “Worse yet,” she continued, as she placed the second cuff link expertly, “she would have sent the twins.  Are you really eager to have  _that_  conversation?  Remember what happened when they caught us out leaving the shower together?  At least that time, we were wearing robes.”  
  
The Doctor threw his hands up in defeat.  “You’re right, you’re right.”  He turned back to the mirror and flipped up the collar of his shirt.  “Pity,” he smirked.  “It could have been fun.”  He reached down to pick up a jumble of brightly coloured cloth that was resting in a small heap on the dressing table.  
  
The wash of colour caught Donna’s eye.  “Theta?” she asked.  “What is that?”  
  
He held the item up for her to see.  “It’s a Christmas tie,” he replied, his tone implying that she shouldn’t even have to ask.  
  
It was indeed a Christmas tie.  There was no mistaking that.  It was made of bright red silk, and had a large garish Christmas tree hand-painted on the front, complete with little coloured lights that blinked and twinkled in a random pattern.  Donna frowned and stated flatly, “You’re not wearing that.”  
  
“I most certainly am,” he countered.  He draped the fabric around his neck and turned again to the mirror.  “I have to.”  
  
But Donna was not to be put off that easily.  “Oh, don’t be daft.  Think of what my mother would say.”  She reached for the tie and, as she attempted to pull it away, suddenly the tinny sound of  _“Jingle Bells”_  rang out.  She quickly dropped the offending article and groused, “Bloody hell, it plays music too?!?”  
  
The Doctor grinned and straightened it again.  “Yeah!  Isn’t that brilliant?!”  
  
She frowned and crossed her arms.  “Where did you get that hideous thing?  If that’s Jack’s idea of a practical joke, he and I are going to have words.”  
  
“No, it wasn’t Jack.”  He turned back to her, in mid-knot.  “It was your grandfather.”  
  
Her eyes grew wide.  “Gramps?!” she exclaimed.  “ _Gramps_  gave you that monstrosity?!?!”  
  
“It’s not a monstrosity.  I like it!”  
  
“Of course you do.  Remember, I’ve been in the Wardrobe.  I’ve seen **The Coat**!”  She went and sat on the bed.  “When exactly did he give that to you?”  
  
He came over and sat next to her, the tie hanging askew around his neck.  “Last night, when you were reading  _“Paddington Bear and the Christmas Surprise”_  to the kids.  He called on the intercom and asked me to come over, that he had something he had to give me.  He handed me a flat box and told me I had to wear what was in it today.  That it was really important that I wear it  ** _Christmas Eve_**.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “What else can I do?”  
  
Donna, the ever practical one, realized the truth.  She sighed.  “I suppose you’re right.”  She kissed his cheek and stood up.  “Finish dressing, Spaceman.  I’ll go warn Mum.”  
  
As she walked away, the Doctor could hear her muttering to herself,  _‘Daft old man.  I swear, he’s losing it.’_ He smiled and reached up to adjust the tie.  In his rush to finish, he accidentally pressed the music button and  _‘Jingle Bells’_  filled the room.  He giggled and grabbed his burgundy velvet jacket, walking along the hallway that connected the two homes and whistling along with the carol.  
  
He opened the door that led to the enlarged lounge, where a tree decorated with fairy lights, ornaments and much randomly-tossed tinsel was stood in the far corner.  He had barely crossed the threshold before he was assailed with the sound of  ** _‘DA-dah!!’_**  He knelt down to catch the oncoming train that was his son.  
  
“DA-dah!  DA-dah!!” the Time Tot cried.  “You wear my tie!!”  He bounced up and down with joy.  
  
Picking him up, the Doctor asked, “Your tie?” looking over at Wilfred Mott, who just chuckled.  
  
“Yeah, DA-dah,” young Troi explained.  “Grampa Wilf and I go shopping and I pick i’ out, all by m’self.  Special for  ** _you_**!  Cos it Christmas, and you need a special Christmas tie!”  
  
The Doctor hugged his son tightly and said, “Quite right, too.  I did need a special Christmas tie.”  He smiled to himself as he heard the TARDIS whisper to him.  “And you know what?  I think you do too.”  He reached into his pocket and produced, with a flourish, a miniature version of the same tie that his ship had created for him.  Hearing Troi’s squeal of delight, he walked them over to the settee and sat down next to Donna and Cassi, placing his son on the floor in front of him.  
  
Unclipping the red velvet bow tie Troi was wearing, he tossed it to Donna, stating, “I hate these things.  Give me a real tie any day.”  He then proceeded to quickly and expertly knot the matching tie, which was complete with tiny coloured lights.  “There you are, my man.  A proper Christmas tie!”  
  
Troi bent his head down and pulled at it, scrutinizing it, and then stared intently at his father’s chest.  Suddenly, his face broke into an enormous grin and he exclaimed, “They the same!  Exactly!!  We like twins now, Da-dah!”    
  
His actual twin rolled her eyes and glanced at her mother, as if to say,  _‘Can’t you do something about him?’_ Donna merely smiled and gathered Cassi to her side in a tight hug.  
  
  
The next morning, after stockings were discovered by the twins (and the Doctor too, much to his delight) and their contents catalogued, examined and compared – after all were dressed in casual holiday loungewear – after breakfast was eaten – after wrapping paper was attacked and destroyed, and presents were admired and givers thanked – after all this, Donna was lounging on the settee, her legs tucked under a warm blanket, surveying her family and the wreckage of another Christmas.  She smiled as she sipped a cup of tea – with a touch of blackberry brandy thrown in.  She’d earned it.  
  
She gazed over at her grandfather, snoring away happily, his new book on alien astronomy that the Doctor found in a distance galaxy open across his knees.  Her mother was  _“resting her eyes”_  in a comfortable armchair, swathed in the fluffy pink and mauve confection of a sweater Donna came across at a stall in a market on the planet Shan Shen.  Cassi was kneeling at her new craft table, sorting through her box of coloured pencils and pastels, and laying down a fresh piece of paper.  
  
Donna marvelled at the diligence with which her daughter applied herself to the task, meticulously drawing the outlines of whatever she was imagining in her head, and carefully choosing the appropriate colour to fill in the outline and detail the picture.  Her motor skills, along with those of language, were more advanced than that of her twin brother.  But the Doctor had explained that Gallifreyan females developed at a faster rate than the males – which explained a lot, she thought with a smile.  She remembered Martha saying the same thing about Humans.  
  
At the sound of two sets of giggles, one slightly more mature-sounding, but not much, she swivelled around to see the two males in her life, rolling about on the floor, playing with a set of very realistic plastic dinosaurs that Troi had received from Jack.  Troi was swooping down on the Doctor with a large pterodactyl, which he had immediately named  _‘Myfanwy’_.  The Doctor was countering with a Tyrannosaurus Rex in one hand and a Stegosaurus in the other.    
  
Donna chuckled to herself and thought again how lucky she was to have such amazing people in her life.  She was roused from her musing by the sound of her daughter’s voice.  “Boys are silly,” Cassi remarked scornfully.  
  
Donna picked her up and settled her on her lap.  “That they are, Cass.  That they are.  But we wouldn’t want them to be any other way, now would we?”  
  
Her doppelganger looked up at her with a thoughtful expression.  “I suppose not.  A brother  _is_  handy to have around sometimes.  But a sister would be so much more fun.”  
  
Donna laughed.  “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.  But don’t get your hopes up too much,” she cautioned and hugged her, silently remembering what a miracle it was to have had the twins.  She hated to disappoint her daughter, but she knew it was highly improbable that it would happen again.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Mummy,” Cassi replied.  “Maia has it all sorted.”  
  
“Maia?” Donna asked, confused.  
  
Cassi handed her the piece of paper she held in her hand.  It was a rather detailed rendering – for a three-and-a-half year old – of the TARDIS, with a tall man with spikey hair and a pin-striped suit holding the hand of an equally spikey-haired little boy.  At their side was a tall, slim ginger-haired woman and a nearly identical little girl.  The striking feature of the picture was a large blue cloud floating over the TARDIS.    
  
Looking carefully, Donna thought she could see eyes and a tiny smile mixed up in the swirls of cloud.  Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Cassi, what is this?” pointing to the cloud.  
  
Cassi smiled softly.  “That’s Maia.  She’s not really here yet.  She’s kinda hovering.”  
  
“Hovering?”  
  
“Yeah,” Cassi explained.  “Right here,” and she placed her small hand on Donna’s abdomen.  Seeing Donna’s shocked expression, she said quietly, “It’s alright, Mummy.  She’s really, really tiny.  I can hear her, but right now, she just gurgles and giggles a lot.  I’m sure she’ll talk to you soon.”  And with that statement, she slid off Donna’s lap and, grabbing a brachiosaur and velociraptor, joined the fray with her father and brother, her girlish laughter ringing through the room.  
  
Donna sat in stunned silence.  She knew both her children were telepathic, inheriting the trait mostly from their father, but supplemented by her own not-insubstantial abilities.  But this revelation was staggering.  Could it be true?  
  
She closed her eyes and concentrated, searching for any kernel of awareness.  Just as she was about to give up, a tiny bubble of sound reached into her mind.  It wasn’t actually so much a sound, as a touch, a minute brush of another essence.  She reached out mentally, encouraging and coaxing the nascent being.  She was rewarded with a feeling of warmth and contentment.  It was enough.  
  
She looked over at her family, tumbling together on the floor.  She decided she’d keep this secret to herself for the time being and picked up her tea, settling back against the arm of the settee.  
  
Much later that evening, with the children nestled all snug in their other beds in the Mott-Noble half of the house, the Doctor sprawled in a boneless heap on the bed he shared with his best friend, bond-mate, and mother of his children, thoroughly sated.  He had given his wife his  _private_  gift when they returned from the family dinner – a new teal satin chemise – and things had progressed to their inevitable, mind-blowingly pleasurable conclusions.  He was surprised, however, at the even-more-than-usual enthusiasm with which Donna approached the proceedings.    
  
He rolled on to his side, head propped on one hand, and gazed at the sleeping form of the woman he loved more than life – or Time – itself.  He brushed a stray curl from her cheek and wrapped it around his finger.  He’d tell her tomorrow about the little revelation his daughter had whispered to him as he tucked her into bed.  For now, he would bask in the knowledge that he was an exceptionally blessed Time Lord.  Leaning down, he kissed his wife gently on the lips, not wanting to wake her, and pulled the duvet over them both.  He smiled contentedly as, in her sleep, she curled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.  It was a very Happy Christmas indeed.  
  
  


From Serenity’s Lady and the Time Family:

“Good Tidings we bring  
To you and your kin,  
Good Tidings for Christmas  
And a Happy New Year!”

Merry Christmas, Everyone!


End file.
